


In The End, Morpheus Had To Let Him Go

by diyozaz



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Bargaining, But he isn't sure if Cassandra will give it to him (y'all understook this ref or nah), Canon Compliant, Cassandra's Heart Disease is revealed, Depressed Harry, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Harry wants forgiveness, I ship them because I love pain, Mention of pre-canon Hassandra, but not that explicit, hassandra, stages of grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 00:31:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19284403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diyozaz/pseuds/diyozaz
Summary: A sleepless night, a depressed Harry remembers late Cassandra, specifically their night. The one from the party.[ canon compliant ]





	In The End, Morpheus Had To Let Him Go

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is inspired by Anya Marina's song entitled Serious Love. Once you'll listen to it (which I strongly recommend you to) you'll immediately understand why I've chosen to rate this story Explicit. It will feature themes like death, depression, swearing and ovbviously explicit sexual content. Read at your own risk.  
> In this story, Harry is basically reliving his memory through a dream, months after Cassandra's funerals.  
> PS : Since The Society twitter account keeps posting pictures of them during the party™, my imagination created this something (yes first time writing smut by the way) ... Hope you'll enjoy :) + english being my second language sorry in advance if you notice a lot of repetitions, grammaticals mistakes and weird syntax.

 

 **EVEN WITH HIS EYES CLOSED, HARRY KNEW EXCATLY HOW THE** ceiling of his bedroom looked like by now. He could easily picture the familiar whiteness of the parallel wall and the shadows of the wood shutters letting just enough sunlight to wake him up in the morning when actually, all he wanted was to sleep. Eternally and peacefully. These past few days, the young man isolated himself from the others, finding loneliness as his new best friend. Eversince the funeral took place, Harry had this odd void that leisurely butchered his soul. According to him, the dark pale blue walls of his room were the only source of proctection from the outside's savagery, an abditory. Sweeping up the cafeteria, the church, Allie's rules, the guards, the rumors... he was done with them. What he desired the most was calm after this storm of abrupt emotions that violently hit him. You could see all the traces of his past anger in his untidy bedroom. Young Bingham went rough on his billiard table as well as his wardrobe. Dozens of tee shirts, underwears and socks were disposed everywhere on the wooden floor and pool sticks.

   A question though remained unanswered. Who did he have to put the blame of his behaviour on ? There must be a someone responsible, responsible for his goddamn brutal emotional downfall. Dewey ? Yes parlty. Surely this murderer can clearly rot in hell for his crime however, as much as he hated him for that, Harry's mind was haunted by somebody else.

   The victim in the story. Campbell's drugs weren't even that efficient to make him forget her. 

   Her.

_**(** I hate when you go, but I hate when you here **)**_

    Cassandra. The late golden Cassandra Pressman.

   “ _We all know how you felt about Cassandra, Harry, you were super fucking clear_ ”. This bitter phrase, its violent delivery...they still vividly echoed in his brain, causing his headache to awfully knock on each sides of his head. What the hell meant Will by this anyway ? Indeed, he may had acted like an asshole half of the time with her but it was justified. As a matter of fact, she was a she-devil herself, always being on the look out to humilate him during the most important periods in high school, like the time where she made the whole student council turning against him when all he did was proposing this new program for West Ham High, or when she deliberately hinted on his drug addiction in front of Principal Karen Bingham, his mother, in the school's hallway. Her complex of superiority was her greatest issue. It had the ability to get on his nerves for a long time, nevertheless, deep down, Harry never truly hated her. In reality, he was mad about himself. He loathed himself for the ugly thought he had the night before prom. He didn't mean any of the filthy mysoginic words that unconsciously came out of his mouth, out of anger.

   Harry felt disgusted by the way he treated her this early year of 2019. Gone, she wouldn't listen to his remorse, to his regret nor to his apology.

   Rage, panic and hurt all twisted together in his chest allowing chaos to impose itself as the newborn ruler of Harry's damaged soul. Balance, lost in the wind, a priori forever. Withdrawing into yourself or the best way to escape the society, far far away from the madding crowd. At least that was the current philosophy he lived by. Yet old Morpheus had sensed his excrutiating desperation and weariness from the distance. Determined to help him, he responded to the mortal's call. With this aim in mind, the divinity immediately freed the poor boy from his pain, carefully carrying him in his arms to take him in a serene ephemeral tranquility.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_**(** I was fine all along, before you appeared **)**_

   His eyelids fluttered. They slowly opened themselves, his gaze coming in contact with the white ceiling. “ _Uh, that's funny_ ” he first told himself. The wall seemed to be leaning a bit on the right. His eyes scanned the rest of the room visible in his visual field to come in a quick conclusion : no, it wasn't his room, neither his sister's, Ruby. Mickey and that stupid rounded-glasses wearing gangly boy were occupying— most likely destroying— it anyway. There wasn't much light too. The walls were colored by two yellowy orange lanterns, just like his. Did he _really_ have to care that much about details ? Absolutely not... But, when he was about to close his eyelids, Harry's brains stopped working. He winced as he moved slightly his head with difficulty on the comfy pink pillow. The first thing he felt when he turned his face to the side was, again, this terrible headache. Except this time, it was more painful than his usual one, although its a pain he had been through a couple of times in the past. Truth to be told, his head was horribly hurting, even more than this morning. It was the same kind of headache he had when he was... hungover. It hit him.

   The dark beige walls, the wide headboard, the dressing table, the three parts vanity mirror, the Harry Style poster, the fire place... It was Cassandra's room.

_**(** But the second you come back, Got me talking fast, making me weak **)**_

    He was back to _that_ Saturday night. The night of the party at her house. The night where they— his thoughts suddenly were interrupted by the crackling of the door. A blond haired young woman discreetly entered. Her steps were so silent, her moves, so delicate. It felt too real for a dream and too oneric for a memory... Was it really some type of dream, or something like an in-between ? Harry didn't bother to get confused. His mind was already drowining in this nagging flow of questions. Right now, his main priority was to stay there in as long as possible since she was there.

   It seemed that he still had agency to control his words although he found himself uncapable of talking at this moment. The girl appeared to struggle with her breathing. She briskly made her way toward the mirror, stood in front of it, unknotting before unbuttonning her infamous white shirt with pink stripes on it. She took a pill from a little bottle and swallowed. Apparently she didn't notice him. The girl was too busy contemplating herself, bare-chested, only wearing her white bra and her jeans on, until she heard him groaning in pain.

“Sorry I woke you up, I didn't mean to” Cassandra softly apologized. It did something to Harry, to hear her voice for the first time, six months after her death. When she turned to face him, she held her shirt close to her bosoms. God, he loved her modesty.

   “It's okay, what happened ?” the boy gently asked.

   “Seriously Harry, you don't remember ?!” The blond asked, surprised. Seeing the confusion in his eyes growing stronger seconds by seconds, Cassandra continued, a geniune smile creeping on her lips. “You got drunk and fell asleep on my bed. Come on, did Karen ever told you that it's rude to sleep on a girl's bed without asking her permission ?” She laughed. For a moment, they both genuinely forgot she was in a state of undress. The material of her shirt was covering more or less her shoulders as well as her narrow waist. “But don't worry I won't tell Ruby nor mommy Bingham about this mess... That's just between us right ? You're lucky Becca didn't sneak out here in order to take pics of you... or did she ?”. She playfully declared. Harry had flashes of memories when she finished her phrase. He recalled more specifically Becca, wandering here and there, taking pictures of him and Cassandra smiling, laughing to one another in the living room, and upstairs, in her bedroom, by her brick fireplace wall, taking a _very_ _serious_ pose, a white candle in his right hand.

   Harry promptly paid attention to the silence. There was no music playing. He checked the clock hanging next to the : 2AM. Right, that's totally understandable.

   “Where are the others ?” he demanded.

   “Out.They left thirty minutes ago. Allie too by the way, she followed Will to God knows where without even thinking about helping me cleaning the kitchen !” she answered, rolling her eyes. Like her, he always had seen the younger Pressman as a nice girl who always have her head in the clouds.

   Harry glanced around him and his gaze stopped on the bottle of pills she desperately tried to hide behind her back. He needed to know.

   “What were the pills you were taking ? From the rare name of this med I know this shit is probably taken for serious disceases...” Young Bingham said as he stood up from the bed. “Are you ill Cassandra ?” He directly asked. A few small meters were now only separating the two teenagers.

_**(** Throwing everything off track, Oh you're trouble **)**_

   Her foot stopped tapping nervously the floor. After a final look on the ground, Cassandra hesitantly lowered her white shirt, revealing a long scar, blemishing the little space between her small yet beguiling breasts. Harry allowed himself to take every single detail, so that he could remember them later in the morning. After all, the dream will soon end... hence the reason why he must do everything to take advantage of it.

    “I take Ateronol” she finally confessed. “The pills are beta blockers, they are basically medicines that slow my heart rate and help widen arteries. I must take one per day so I can be on form. If I miss one, just one...” Cassandra insisted on the verb “Sometimes it gets messy. Seriously you don't want to see me with a my blue face”. Harry, deeply moved by her revelation, attentively listened to her explaination, a sad smile forming on his plump lips at her black humour. There's always something quite disconcerting when you joke about health and life which it was kind of tragically ironic because she'll eventually die. Speaking of which, Cassandra must have encountered death everyday. Curiousness started to burn his vocal cords. He needed to ask this otherwise he would regret this when he'll wake up— gosh this thought tortured him. So he did.

   “Why did you keep your sickness away from me all this time ? Who else knows ?”

   “Obviously my family, Allie... The others ? They don't to know, I don't want their sympathy, seeing me as weak” Her voice cracked when she answered him, sign of her insecurity Harry definitely caught.

   “You're not ! On the contrary, it makes you even stronger Cassandra, you're the most incredible person I've ever known” Harry cut her all at once, taking a step closer. She built a fucking society for fuck sake why did she have to feel insecure. He didn't want to waste any more minute to remind her value. Pressman blushed at his comment. She didn't seem to understand the whole extent of his compliment and how powerful she was. “Wait— So, when Grizz told me you missed history class last monday...” he started.

   “...I was in the hospital for a check up” she finished.

   “And the day you ditched Mr Johnson's conference on 19th century Romanticism ?”

   “I had some sleep problems, got really tired with a soupçon of anxiety. Trust they were all after me, you know, the fucking side effects”

_**(** I'm in too deep Now I know what they mean when they say It's serious **)**_

   There was awkward silence after her response then. Even though his shyness was taking over, pushing him to find the ground wierdly interesting, Harry gained enough confidence to direct his eyes, once again, on her scar. He approached her, his fingers laid on her mark, the result of her past injury dating back from her childhood years. She shuddered under his touch when his hand trailed down the nasty purple blue vertical scar.

 **(** _How could this be ? When we touch, it's a dream, Oh, you're making me delirious )_

   Then, they looked at each other. His hands left her bust to meet her forehead, brushed tenderly _her bangs_ out of _her_ eyes. His fingertips continued their way in the softness of her golden locks, travelling down her spine. Her sea eyes and his dark chocolate ones never left their direction, exploring, undressing each other souls. He stuck in a breath, but his eyes remained on her, diverging from her blown pupils to her lips. When she couldn't bear to resist to the electricity of his stroke, Cassandra decided and surged forward, Harry meeting her halfway. She smashed her lips against his, and oh how relaxing it was to finally get rid of this torturous knot in her stomach. Her shirt fell on the wooden floor, letting her hands wrapped around his neck. She almost ripped his blue shirt, excitement running madly through her veins. He grabbed her upper thights so she could jump, hooking around her waist, leading her to her bed while their tongues pursue their mutual aeipathy. Cassandra bounced on the bed and took Harry with her, not letting go of him. The warmth that radiated from him was too pleasant to be broken. He felt the same thing too.

_**(** This is serious love love, love **)** _

   Her skin was a whole new world that needed oh-so much attention and delicacy to be explored. He felt like that old French poet Baudelaire in his poem in prose where he would sanctifying the woman's body, comparating her as a mighty creature, a adventurous quest. Yet, what turn Harry on the most wasn't just her gorgeous body. He first and foremost adored her eyes, her small hands, her voice when they assured him that he'll nail this last year of highschool even if the heavy weight of exams was likely to drag him down through failure. He realized he fucked up. He knew he did. Tonight, he hoped to make amends.

   So Harry left a trail of kisses upon her skin and gave a particular attention to that sensitive area between her breasts, right after she swiftly got rid of her bra.

   At the sight of her nakedness, he couldn't deny this. Cassandra was a goddess, bounded to be worshipped. He offered her himself. All of him. He was hers just like she was his.

   His head dissapeared further down her waist after he removed her jeans followed by the last piece of clothing that dissimulated her sex. And when his lips finally came in contact with the most intimate place of her oh so beautiful body, craving for his touch, Cassandra gasped as her hands fiercefully grabbed her bed sheets. His tongue perfectly worked there, inciting a very vocal whimper escaping between her teeth. His name, her moans sounded like a powerful hypnotizing mermaid's melody.

   Harry was seduced, caught under her spell. 

   And when she was on the verge of losing all of her control, Cassandra suddenly grabbed his jaw, drawing him closer to her mouth so she can have a taste of her own medicine. Her tongue glossed on his lucious mouth, biting his lips as she gave a hard tug at his dark curls, eager for more. Oh, how she loved his touseld hair. It would be a big little lie for the older Pressman not admitting that she thought, multiple times, about passing her hands in his curls. At this thought, the young woman couldn't bear to hide her wide smile against his lucious wet lips.

_**(** Now I'm losing sleep, Been lost in your arms **)**_

   His chest came in contact with her gleaming front, one hand cradling her cheek, the other never ceasing to roam her thight. In pure honesty, the feeling was too overwhelming. When her hand unbuckled his belt and touched him there, Harry thought he going to loose it all. Her continuous strokes consumed him in a such intense manner, his lust grew even more stronger. Once his grey pants were off, just as she was about to welcoming his member inside her, Cassandra flipped them over, straddeling his waist. She grabbed a condom from her drawer— safe sex's always the best— put it on him carefully before lowering herself onto him.

_**(** Watching you watching me **)** _

   His mind blanked out for a moment at this act of union. The wild movements that came afterwards were utterly indescripable. They were holding each other and rolling on and off each other, slowly then vigorously, like two too solid cosmos colliding, a carnal big bang, trying to come into each other. They were moving purposefully, into and against each other. Her, her eyes falling back into her eyelids as her nails racked on the skin of his back. Him, niping at the junction between her neck and shoulders as he accelereated the pace. He adored the way her body moved under his, the way her lips travelled down his neck, her breath tickling this sensitve area of his, causing him to pant “ _Oh Cassie!_ ” repeatedly. Her hands mapped his shoulders blades and buttcheeks, causing his heart to race, a twin to Cassandra's ill one. They were trying to follow their desires, needs, sensations, emotions... their futures. His gutteral moans reverberated deep within her throat, and her soft sounds of satisfaction were muffled against his mouth.

 _**(** _ _I can feel your heart against my heart_ _Yeah, every time you do that, Got me talking fast, making me weak_ _**)** _

   “I love y— ” he found himself saying before she captured his mouth, shutting him up. “ _We don't have to talk right now Harry, we have plenty of time_ ” she internally whispered against his lips. Her finger lowered on his bottom lip, drawing his left cheek with her nail. They put so much pasdison and desire in this kiss, not wanting to waste a single second of the sharing of this mutual delectation radiating from their bodies. And now he knew. He understood. He comprehended in this single kiss her state of mind at that time. Her fear of committement, her stress regarding her future, Yale, her insecurity... A tear fell down, conveying the entierity of his love and admiration for the woman. “ _Please forgive me_ ” he wanted to say as they reached the climax.

 _**(** _ _This is serious love_ _**)** _

   This saturday night, Harry Bingham and Cassandra Pressman were simple teenagers in love, oblivious the tragic fate that awaited them.

   The young man never felt more alive, more awake in his sleep. His current obession being to remembered the light pressure of her breasts against his chest, her hands caressing the muscles of his back, his lips capturing her harden nipples. Each movement lit the wild fire of passion they both shared in the downfall of their extacy. They murmured each other's names like prayers as they finished their inflamed fleshly dance.

   Both of their mouths opened, Harry tried to savour once again, this incredible memory as much as he could. He tried to capture each of her alluring features pleasure did to her face.

   Meeting the aftermath of this primal exchange, their sweaty bodies gave out, peacefully recovering from the love they just shared. Breathless next to him, Cassandra placed her head on his chest, her right hand, caressing ribs. It felt nice. Harry's fingers found a lock of her damp blond hair and played with it, cafuné, a boyish smile displaying on his face, he was happy at this moment. Althought his eyes didn't glint anymore in the dark, the sign of a troubling regret.

   “I'm sorry” he declared. The blond stopped her loving motion.

   “For what ?” she merely asked. She rose her head to study his face. Why now ?

   “For everything, for being an asshole to you, telling you fuck you when I didn't meant you, wishing for your deat—"

   “I don't think I'm ready to talk about this Harry, it isn't the right time" The old Pressman vehemently cut him as she sat up.

   “Yes it is ! Please, Cassandra, you need to listen to me, you'll d—” he pleaded. Still, It was too late. Unable to detache his back from the mattress, Harry saw her figure slowly fading away, proving him once more that he'll never get the chance to tell her goodbye nor a mere sorry.

   After all, it was written in the stars. Harry loved her too early, he rejected her too fast. Cassandra loved him too late, she wanted him back too unhurried.

 

* * *

 

 

   In the end, Morpheus had to let him go. 

   Mickey was actually the one who dragged him away from his dream or memory—whatever this was or wasn't— loudly knocking on the door to remind him to eat his breakfast. But, given the silence he recieved as the ultimate and sole answer, the former tenant sighed, leaving Harry in company of his dearest and comfortable loneliness.

 

 

 _**(** _ _This is serious love_ _**)** _

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *facepalming myself* somebody better take away my keyboard from my hands because I seriously don't know where I'm going with this story. My need for writing somekind of Hassandra mourning and smutty-ish fic was too powerful so here I am, publishing it. Oh and may I add, this is the first time that I write a sexual explicit content ? Courtesy to the bunch of smut fics I've recently read in the past. They really helped me to write this. It was kinda weird to write it though since I tried to make their love scene, shall we say, quite poetic. When you get too raw in the details it breaks the beauty of the scene, at least that's the way I see it.  
> Anyway what do you think dear readers ? I love having feed back and I really appreciate you guys' opinions ! They are very insightful, so please, I want to know EVERYTHING ! The good and the bad. 
> 
> Feel free to follow me and chat with me on twitter, i'm @burntlatte :)


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